


Tumult and Tumbled

by dexstarr



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexstarr/pseuds/dexstarr
Summary: “It’s war, everyone’s fucking everyone.” It’s the truest and plainest thing Mon Mothma’s ever said. “And if not, they ought to be.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Star Wars_ is not mine and no profit is made from this work. Written for the Porn Battle Prompt Stack 2, prompt: Jyn Erso/Mon Mothma, leader, struggle, relief.

Mon Mothma knows she’s sacrificing Jyn Erso. Finding Galen Erso is surely a death mission, but she says just the right things to push the Rebellion’s newest, most reluctant member into acting on her own. She’s read the file, she knows what Jyn needs to hear to take matters into her own hands. 

She would hate the Emperor for doing the same thing. She hates that he’s pushed her to this, to manipulating people for her own ends. 

Mon Mothma hates her decision, but she wouldn’t change it. A single life, no matter how promising, isn't worth a galaxy of lives. She has to use the girl because no one else can get the plans. Jyn has a past with Saw and will understand her father’s work.

*     *     *

Ears around the base report back that Jyn and Cassian are recruiting, spreading whispers that they plan to leave tomorrow for Scarif. No questions asked, no return guaranteed. Jyn’s good at bringing in the rank and file because she’s one of them. They know her story, how she was plucked from a prison planet and dropped here, expected to make a miracle happen. That’s the kind of thing people rally around at the base level.

*     *     *

It’s selfish, but she knocks on Jyn’s door late at night, when no one else is awake.

“You.” 

“Yes, me. May I?” Jyn nods, so Mon steps through the door and into the room. To buy herself time, she looks around, but she knows what’s here: a washroom behind that closed door, a bed in the farthest corner, a small food synthesizer unit. Utilitarian to a tee, decorated only by leftover Massassi touches. There’s no time for anything else in war, and besides, nobody would appreciate blaster or fuel credits spent on decorations. 

Jyn knows why she’s here. “Does it thrill you, to spend my last night planetside with me?” 

“No.” Mon shrugs helplessly, quite unlike her. She doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t the time for speeches, but that what she’s best at. “You’ve been here a day, and you’re already inspiring people to follow you. I know what you’re planning and I won’t stop it. I…” Words usually come so easily, but she’s struggling now. What does one say to a martyr, especially a martyr with such damnably kissable lips? “I appreciate what you’re doing. I know the cost. I know I’ve … I’ve influenced you.” 

Jyn’s laugh is short and bitter, like freshly distilled Corellian brandy. “Nobody influenced me, but if it makes you feel better, you can say you did. I don’t care.” She tosses her jacket to the floor and fingers the pendant at her neck. “Thank you for getting me off that prison planet, though. I thought I’d rot there.” Mon doubts it; Jyn’s good at getting herself out of trouble, just as good as she is at getting herself into it. “Why are you really here? I doubt you got up in the middle of the night to apologize.” 

Mon curses and thanks Jyn’s directness in the same thought. Without it, she might be diplomating around the reason for half an hour, and thus wasting half an hour of what little time they have. “When you made your speech today and tried to convince the leaders of the Rebellion to help you, all I could think was that I…” By the gods, is she going to admit this? Yes. “I wanted to kiss you.” It’s embarrassing to admit — she’s a former senator, a leader, a rebel. She’s using Jyn, but she wants her. Wants to feel the spirit of Jyn, to draw that fighting fire deep into herself to keep for when she hears the inevitable bad news, and to inspire her to keep making the difficult decisions. 

Jyn Erso embodies why she fights. 

A peace fighter, what an oxymoron. 

Jyn prowls closer, like a giant Anooba. The confident, steady prowl of a predator closing in on their prey. She’s light on her feet, a ready fighter. “Is that all you wanted to do?” 

Mon shakes her head, hair scratching the back of her neck. It’s getting too long but she’s been too busy to visit a barber droid. “No,” she admits, heat rising in her cheeks because she knows, with her finely tuned political instincts, that Jyn’s going to make her admit what else she wants. She can face down the Emperor but she’s undone by this confident, fearless rebel. 

“Well?” Jyn breathes into her ear. The hair that perpetually escapes her bun tickles Mon’s cheek, they’re that close. “What else do you want?” 

“I wanted you to fuck me.” There. She’s said it. But her traitor mouth keeps going. “I wanted to struggle underneath you, to feel how strong you are.” Reaching out, Mon runs trembling hands down Jyn’s arms, feeling the defined biceps hidden by the rough fabric of her shirt. 

Her trembling quits when Jyn whips them around, pushing her back to the bed. Thank the gods. Mon’s usually not so unconfident, but Jyn brings it out in her, makes her feel like a gawky intern all over again, unsure of if politics is in her blood. Or at least the propositioning did, because now she’s feeling better, on her back with Jyn straddling her hips.

“I bet everyone on this base is jealous of me right now,” Jyn says, hands finding the hem of Mon’s tunic. 

“It’s war, everyone’s fucking everyone.” It’s the truest and plainest thing Mon Mothma’s ever said. “And if not, they ought to be.” 

Jyn pulls the tunic over her head and twists it around her wrists, then pins them to the bed with one strong hand. “Have you followed that philosophy on other nights?” she asks, leaning over Mon, knees planted on either side of her ribs. “Or do you stand apart, the solitary, untouchable leader?” 

“I don’t want to think about other nights. I’m here with you, that’s what matters.” She doesn’t want to cloud her memories of Jyn, even if those other nights have been as solitary as Jyn guessed. Pressing her knuckles to the bed, Mon arches her back, wrists pushing against the palm of Jyn’s hand. Her bare stomach brushes against the inner seam of Jyn’s fatigues. 

Even in combat boots, Jyn is shorter than her, smaller too, but she holds Mon down effortlessly, using that one strong hand on her wrists to keep her in place. “Such a romantic, Senator Mon Mothma,” she murmurs, mouth on her neck. “Who would’ve guessed you had that inside, with all your talk of duty and rebellion.” 

Mon’s laugh is high and light, like the calm seas of Chandrila. “Rebellions are built on hope.” She bumps Jyn’s forehead with her nose. “Rebellions are also built on passion. You have to be passionate about your beliefs to fight against overwhelming odds.” 

“I suppose.” Jyn’s reply is noncommittal, reminding Mon that for Jyn, this is now about avenging her father first and foremost. Jyn wants to destroy the Death Star for a reason beyond the obvious: Galen Erso gave his life to sabotaging it, and Jyn wants that sacrifice to count.

Mon Mothma knows, and knows she’s using Jyn to save the fledgling Rebellion, but enough of _those_ thoughts. 

To get them back on track, she braces her heels on the bed and pushes against Jyn with all her strength. Wrists slipping out from underneath Jyn’s palm, her now free hands grab Jyn’s waist, and then Mon tries to sit up, to budge Jyn from her torso.

In the flurry that follows, Jyn stays on top, clinging to her like a barnacle. They finish in the same position they started in, with Jyn holding Mon’s hands down and kneeling over her hips. 

But this time, Mon’s breathless from struggling against Jyn, and there’s a pleasant ache between her thighs. Exactly what she’d hoped for when she knocked on Jyn’s door. 

Jyn’s finger strokes between her breasts, down her sternum, and stops at the snap on her trousers. “Is this what you want?” 

Mon nods emphatically. 

Jyn undoes the fastener, hand teasingly curving over Mon’s cunt, but she stops there. Surely she can feel the heat of her arousal through the layers of underwear and trousers, but she doesn’t do anything. 

“What are you waiting for?” Mon asks, and doesn’t even wince at the pleading tone in her voice. 

Fingertips press against her clit, shocking a gasp from her. “That.” When Jyn presses harder, Mon swears the callouses from months of labor in that Imperial prison are touching her most sensitive spot. “You said you wanted to struggle, to feel how strong I am.” Jyn shifts, moving to straddle one of Mon’s thighs. “Struggle for me. I like when you fight against me, against your instincts.” 

Jyn’s words, Jyn’s arousal on hot on her thigh, Jyn’s hand still trapping hers — it all combines into a whirlwind that sweeps Mon away. She comes, spurred on by the admission and the knowledge that Jyn’s just as ready for this as she is. _Fuck_ — how embarrassing, to come just like that, with barely any touching, but she’s so damn ready, it’s been such a long time, and by the Force, she hopes Jyn isn’t laughing at her. 

When her eyes open, Jyn’s still above her, grinning impishly, as if she’s pleased about the spontaneous orgasm. 

Mon opens her mouth to say something, but Jyn silences her, tapping her bottom lip. “It’s okay. It’s rather sexy, you know, to make you come with just my words. I’m no skilled orator. That’s your role, Senator.” 

Making a face, Mon Mothma sticks out her tongue, acting very unlike the senator she used to be. “You’re incorrigible,” she says.

“I know. That’s in my records somewhere.” Jyn’s grin turns decidedly wicked. “We’ve got all night to find out what else I can add to my misdeeds. I’m sure fucking the leader of the Rebellion is a crime somewhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Despite being a massive Star Wars fan (EU for life!), I've not written much in the fandom. Come visit me on [tumblr](http://galacticcoyote.tumblr.com/) where I'm trying to be more active in fandoms. Help out by sending me prompts!


End file.
